


A Man Sits Alone at a Malt Shop

by miss_nettles_wife



Category: Eerie Indiana
Genre: Gen, Implied Alcoholisim, future!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 08:37:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16761712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_nettles_wife/pseuds/miss_nettles_wife
Summary: Who was Mayor Chisel, if he wasn't Mayor Chisel?





	A Man Sits Alone at a Malt Shop

**Author's Note:**

> ......my obsession with mayor chisel continues.....

Who was Winston Chisel when he wasn't the man in charge of Eerie Indiana? Who is anyone they're stripped of their most defining characteristic? Who is Mr. Radford without the World O' Stuff? Who is Edgar Teller without his son? Who is that son without sticking his nose where it damn well doesn't belong?   
The answer to one of those questions is no one. That’s who he is these days, a no one. Even worse: an ex-someone. There are few so reviled as someone who was someone else in another life. Some deservingly, some unfairly. Some are somewhere in the middle.

He downed another mouthful of Black Cow. There is a hint of salt in it, it adds to the flavor in his opinion. Sweet and creamy. By the time it hit the back of his throat it was stomach churning. Good. The sprinkles on the top have begun to bleed color onto the white whipped cream like colored gashes.   
  
There are worse vices to have.

“Well, I guess we can rule out my Dad."   
  
"Probably mine too."   
  
The sound of marker pen sliding on newspaper. Conversations around him fade back into focus. Things happen in cycles in Eerie; these kids are part of it and they don’t even know. He knows the Teller boy, with grey hair. He’s been causing trouble with his imagination since he could walk. His father twice as long. The other one, the Donner girl, Ines, he doesn’t know her.

Truth be told, he’d thought he was home clean when Janet Donner said she was sending her daughter to boarding school against her family’s wishes. Janet was removing herself and her line from town. His town. Back then, or maybe even now. No Tellers to get in his business. No Donners hanging on.

Perhaps he celebrated too soon. He'd thought when Marshall took off that he wouldn't have to worry about kids stumbling onto things that they didn't understand. In an ironic twist, he was right. He didn't have to worry about that stuff anymore. No, now it was Mayor Holmes's problem. He's been inside the town hall, he's felt the hunger in there. Mayor Holmes evidently knew what he was doing.

They've been here for a while, those two. Looking at pictures, of all things. A slightly nosy gander has told him that they're looking at pictures of their parents in high school. He took another sip of his drink and savored the flavor.   
  
“That’s Todd Mcnulty. My dad has all his Eight Tracks.”

“Why would your dad be collecting eight tracks?”

“Tod did a ton of concept stuff released exclusively on eight tracks.”

“Does he have regular CDs?”

“I guess so but it’s all weird stuff like Cowpunk.”

He turned his head slightly as they drew another line on the paper.

“He’d be too young to have gone out back then.”

“What about Melaine Monroe?”

“What about her?”

“Could she have had something to do with it?”

“I don’t think so, she was already in college.”

Another line on paper.

They’re missing the third among their ranks today, Mayor Holmes little sister. Half sister. He’d never been sure of that. He didn’t make a habit of following teenagers around but if he had to take a guess then he would say that she was out with the Mayor acting as his assistant, which as far as he knew she was paid to do.

Simon Holmes. He'd made the mistake in the nineties of underestimating Simon Holmes and he'd never learned from that mistake. It was easy too when he was around Marshall and the Kid with the Gray hair. He was just a kid, they were nosy teens. He was watching, learning and when he decided to swoop in and take his job? He had the support of the whole community behind him. And Mayor Chisel became just Chisel again. He downed another mouthful of his drink. Radford has already told him that he won't be getting anymore today, which is annoying. 

He would never have suspected there was any darkness in Simon Holmes if he didn't know better. Even now, he had everyone in town convinced he was a young, up and coming politician with Eerie's best interests at heart. He had the sob story to boot. As for him, well, he'd been Mayor for years, so long that he, in fact, had no idea how to exist separate from it. He'd even thought that he was a pretty good mayor. Everything he did, he did in service of Eerie. His home. His only home. As for Simon, it was clear to anyone with eyes he didn't give a damn about 'building a better Eerie' because his idea of a better Eerie was no Eerie.   
  
God save anyone who happened to live here, of course.

“How about Uncle Harley?” The Donner girl asked, lifting something up from the table and putting it back down, "He was into all that stuff for a hot minute."   
"Nah, he was already in military school by then." Another scribble, then "Maybe Mister Chisel would know?"   
"Yeah, but do you want to ask him?" The girl asked, whispering so soft he had to strain to hear her.   
"No, but he was the mayor at the time if some kids went missing at the lake-"   
"Maybe."   
  
They don’t speak to him though, they keep muttering between themselves, scribbling on their paper. It's probably better that they keep ignoring him. He's done with weirdness and he's done with the children who observe it. What he wants to do is drink his black cows and be left alone.

“Oh, Hi Aunt Winsome!"   
"Hello, Ines."  
Speaking of alone...

“Thanks for calling me, Bartholomew.”  
“It's no problem.”

He looked up just in time to see his sister crossing the room to the bar where he was sitting. She never changed. Not even now, they might be family but if it came down to the line, he knew she'd chose Marilyn Teller. She always had.

“Are you ready to go home, Winston?” She asked, picking up his almost finished glass and lifting it away from him over the counter.

“No.” He said, but let her lift him to his feet anyway.

“Come on.” She said, leading him towards the door. To add insult to injury, she stopped to tell Ines that she would indeed be joining the Tellers for Sunday Lunch.

Who was he, without the mayorship?

No one.


End file.
